


Hey There Mr. Vega

by trilliath



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Drunken Flirting, M/M, Resolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-03
Updated: 2012-06-03
Packaged: 2017-11-06 18:54:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/422050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trilliath/pseuds/trilliath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kinkmeme prompt was:<br/>It's supposed to annoy him, but secretly James loves it when Steve calls him Mr. Vega. When they get drunk together, the secret slips out, and Steve finds that very interesting. Cue sexy times and Steve calling James 'Mr. Vega' when he's fucking him.</p><p>Bonus points: James reacting every time Steve calls him that in public from then on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hey There Mr. Vega

"Hey there Mister Vega," Steve says in his smooth low voice, sliding into the chair opposite his friend. The music was pounding in a familiar fashion. Dancers were gyrating up on elevated platforms back above the table James had chosen, quite possibly for that reason.   
James is reclining loosely in his chair, head tilted back at an awkward angle that might have been uncomfortable had he been sober enough to think about it. At the sound of Steve's voice his head lolls forward, tilting askew as he looks over at his crewmate.  
"Mmm... I like that." he says, voice slowly rolling with slurred sounds as he gestures inarticulately with one thick finger.  
"You're drunk," Cortez declares with a grin.  
"Ye-up," comes the drawled reply with a cheeky smirk.

Steve smiles fondly at him. The young marine is generally witty, enthusiastic, and a pleasure to be around. But drunk? Damned adorable. 

"So what is it you like?" he asks, propping his head on his raised fist, smiling broadly at James with soft eyes.

"Mmm?" comes the guttural query.

Steve reaches across to snag the bottle of liquor sitting next to an empty glass, turning it over in his hands to see the label. Tequila. Figures. And mostly gone. He pours some into the empty glass and lifts it to his lips.

"You said you liked something."

James watches Cortez as he plays the edge of the glass back and forth over his lips idly for a second, waiting for his response. 

Oh, right. He thinks a moment, then remembers. "Yep," he agrees ineloquently.

Steve tips the drink back into his mouth. "What was it?" he repeats, shaking his head, voice slightly rougher after the burn of alcohol.

"Mmm? Oh. You said it."

"What?" He sets down the glass, grinning at James's drunken insouciance. 

"My name. All..." his eyebrows draw together as he searches for the word. "formal. In that... voice,"

"What voice?" Steve teased with an even bigger grin.

Vega scowls at him as though he has been mocked and is indignant. " _That_ voice, Esteban."

"Is that so, Mister Vega?" Steve says, letting his voice go deep and rich with amusement.

Vega eyes him as though deciding whether to be annoyed, then decides he is too drunk to care and grins at him. "Yep." But then he frowns. "I don't think I was supposed to tell you that."  
With a shrug he snickers under his breath, "too late now!"

Cortez tries not to watch when Vega leans back in his chair and rubs a hand over his washboard abs with a contented smile. Commander Shepard may have been extremely influential in helping him move on from his grief, but he was pretty sure that didn't mean she intend for him to roll right into jumping his crewmate. _No matter how much he might want to_ , he thinks, stealing a glance at Vega's broad form. 

James squints at the bottle between them and then pours more of the liquor into the glass, pushes it closer to Cortez. "Hey, you have some catching up to do, Esteban,"

"That I do," he agrees, taking the drink and knocking it back.

When Vega takes the glass from him and pours another shot for himself Steve leans forward again. "You sure that's a good plan my friend?" He asks with a smile.

Vega turns a withering glance on him. "You know the rule!"

Cortez's face splits into a chagrinned smile with a laugh, "You're right. How could I forget? If you can still pour," he begins.

"You better drink up - and pour some more!" James finishes with a grin and tosses back the tequila.

"In that case, I better go and get us more tequila," Steve says, rising out of his chair.

"Fuck yes," James replies.

 

By the time they make it back to the Normandy, they are staggered, snickering, slap-happy drunk. They lean on each other to keep from veering too far off course, though Vega's bulk tends to overpower even Cortez's athletic strength when he sees something interest. It's like taking a _Dogo Argentino_ puppy for a walk; leashes are just there to give them something to drag you along by.

Like now.

"Hey Commander!" James says, jerking him to the side as they attempted to stumble past Shepard who was working at the station next to the galaxy map.

"You like tequila, no? You should've come! Why weren't you out?" He demands.

The commander tries to stifle a chuckle by biting her lips when she turns to look at them with folded arms. "Sorry. Looks like you had more than enough to make up for me though," she says with a grin.

"Yeah, because me and Steve had to split your share… and you drink like a krogan!" he accused, pointing a directionless gesture at her. He thinks for a moment, then adds, "mmm, 'ts why we're drunk. Your fault."

"Come on," Steve says, chagrinned as he tugs Vega after him into the elevator.

"Next time, Lola, you be there," Vega orders.

"Aye-aye, Lieutenant!" Shepard barks back, a huge smile on her face.

Steve is blushing now in embarrassment at the insubordinate behavior of his companion as the doors slide shut after them. And damned if he can't stop chuckling.

As they stumble back against the wall of the elevator car, Vega wraps a large arm around Steve's waist and leans against him. 

"I like you," he adds.

Steve tips his head back, gaze wavering till he squints to focus on James' face. He grins. "Well then it's a good thing I happen to like you too, _Mister Vega_."

"Ugh. Really shouldn't have told you about that," James mutters and heaves a petulant sigh, tipping his head heavily into the crook of Steve's neck. "Unfair," he adds.

"Hmm?"

"You get that sexy voice. All I've got is... me," he says, gesturing with a broad hand at his heavily-muscled body.

Cortez follows the sweep of his hand with guilty eyes. He'd been trying to avoid ogling his friend too openly all night, but the amount of alcohol in his system was making extremely difficult. And when he insisted on wearing those skintight shirts of his, especially the ones like he wore now with those lines that angled in over his abdomen drawing the eye down to... now _that_ was unfair.

But then his brain catches up to his ears and he turns narrowed eyes on James's face, half burrowed into his shoulder.

"Sexy, huh?" he asks softly before he can stop himself. Damned alcohol.

"Mmm," James agrees, nuzzling against his neck. And suddenly, their proximity is no longer that of two drunk friends stumbling home but of simmering awareness.

 _Plastered_ is the word; to describe both Vega's state and the way his body is pressing ever closer against Steve's. His free hand wobbles up to trace Steve's collarbone, slipping down over his trim abs with tipsy little strokes. He palms the muscle of his hips with a broad hand, tugging him even closer.

Steve takes a sharp breath, struggling to stand up against the force of his desire, of James's questing touch. There were reasons he should pull away, why he should pluck the younger marine's broad hands off his skin and set him off to bed.  
He was sure there were reasons.  
Somewhere. He was having a really hard time remembering any of them.  
Why was it only when it was far too late that he remembered that you should _never_ drink to catch up. 

"I wanna make out with you, Esteban," James declares, lifting his head from Steve's neck to look at him with heavy-lidded, sparking eyes.  
He can't speak. It feels as if all the air had left Steve's lungs as he watches James tilt his head a little to the side and gaze down at his mouth, lips parting slightly in anticipation. His eyes flick back up to meet his, as though waiting for any dissent, but there is none. Steve can't think of any sufficient reason to argue. Considering the hungry, excited look in James's eyes he doesn't want to even try anymore.

With a fractional flicker of a grin, James looks back at his lips, then presses inexorably forward till his lips meet Steve's.   
Moment by moment Steve feels the last twinges of resistance melting from his body.   
The kiss is unsophisticated as they are both more unsteady than not, but it is softly, achingly, good.

"Hey Esteban," James says, tilting his head to kiss his jaw, his cheek, "you know, you have a sexy mouth."  
"So do you, Mister Vega," he replies, voice breathy.  
And then neither man is willing to be limited to sweet gentle kisses. James captures his mouth again with ferocity, pulling his body closer. Steve lets himself arch into the kiss, reveling in the heat of their chests pressing together, abandoning whatever resistance had been plaguing him. Before long, their tongues are tangling and their hands are roaming each others backs.

But they are interrupted when the elevator begins to move down, unbidden. James lifts his head, confused.

"Where are we going?" he wonders aloud.

"Crewman Todd on deck 3 has summoned the elevator," EDI replies.

At the sound of her voice James leans back in surprise, but doesn't release the arm he had wrapped around Steve's waist.

When the doors slide open, the pair of drunk marines stumble out just missing bowling over their crewmate, having forgotten that the door switched sides on deck 3. Steve, having had his back pressed against the door, nearly goes sprawling, but James manages to keep his grip on his waist and hauls him upright again.

"Heyyyy Andy," Vega says as they stumble past her. She waves at them with an amused smile before disappearing into the elevator.

By habit they start to head towards crew quarters, but it's late, ship-time, and usually crewmates didn't take to kindly to being woken up by drunk officers getting frisky. 

And they were definitely getting frisky.

In unspoken accord they pause outside the door to quarters, turn towards the lounge. But before they could make it past the memorial wall, they discovered that the lounge was not empty; when the door opened to emit a crew member who made for the restroom, Garrus's unique voice could be clearly heard telling more of his stories .

"Shuttle bay?" Vega suggests.

Steve squints at his chrono, shakes his head. "Night-shift's doing PT," he replies. He squints over James's shoulder, grabbing the cap of muscle for stability. "Starboard lounge?"

"Major's always in there," Vega counters.

"I believe the major is otherwise engaged." EDI interjected. "Starboard observation lounge is currently unoccupied." 

"Mmm. Flight plan acquired," Steve says with a grin. James laughs at this, the tugs him to his chest and presses a sloppy kiss to his lips.

They stumble to the starboard as though on choppy high seas despite the perfect steadiness of the docked ship. As the door slides open James wobbles over to the viewport and presses his hands to the transluminum, staring out at the beauty of the chaos of citadel space. Letting the door slip shut behind him, Cortez stands inside the doorway, rubbing a hand over his neatly-trimmed beard. Normally he would be even more distracted than James by the silhouettes of ships moving about the citadel docks.  
It was just, there was something he ought to do, something with the door controls. He turns and stares at the green holo-display but it's just a big blurry green blob.

But he should to do something. Whatever it was. He tries to remember, but James is moving back over to him. With the bulky marine wrapping his arms around him from behind and licking the back of his ear in a slow drag, he finds it particularly difficult to think.

"Would you like me to put a privacy warning on the door, Lieutenant?" EDI's smooth voice asks, anticipating his stymied action.

"That is an excellent idea, EDI" James declares loudly. "I'm gonna make out with Steve," he adds for good measure.

"Understood, lieutenant," comes the - perhaps slightly amused - reply.

Cortez can't help the laugh that burbles up in him, despite his chagrin.  
"Damn right Mister Vega," he adds.

"Mmm," James purrs against his ear, nipping the edge between his teeth. "C'mere," he says, grabbing Steve's hand. He turns and moves over to the nearby couch, picking the spot where it bends in a rounded corner. He falls back onto the couch, dragging Steve with him into the relief of a steady surface. Well, the deck was steady, but it required that whole _balance_ thing, which seemed to be in short supply. 

James's hands and mouth are already on him before he's even finished the thought. With the help of the alcohol, everything is rushing and rolling through his body, every sensation overlapping the previous in an inseparable flow of touches and strokes. His mouth is tasting the leftover tequila, the cool tangy sensation of another's mouth. His body is full of heat and tightness and longing. His hands are touching hot skin, rolling over hard roads of battle-won muscle and scars. He realizes he is making a low sound of pleasure in the back of his throat.

"Damn, Esteban, that is one hell of a sexy mouth you have," James says against his lips, then proceeds to put it to good use.

James's kisses are sharp and straightforward, darting in hard against Steve's mouth. Steve kisses him back with languid strokes of his tongue, letting his mouth be plundered. Their legs tangle as they slowly pull each other closer till they can feel the heat of each other's bodies. Hands roam further down hips and thighs, scraping up over necks and under clothes. When James gets his blunt fingers around Steve's nipple, pinching lightly, he moans, the edges of his characteristic control and calm fraying rapidly. 

Steve pushes back on James's shoulders until he leans back into the corner couch. He slides over onto his lap so that he can straddle him, sandwich James's thick body between his own and the couch. He grips the furniture and leans down to kiss James with less languor and more need. The brush of their groins as he rides forward sends shudders through them both.

Before he knows it, Vega is popping the snaps and tugging down the zip of his shirt till it falls open. Brushing it back he splays broad hands over the dusting of dark hair on Steve's chest. He pulls it down and lets it fall away, bringing rough hands back up to trace the discernible lines of his muscles. He dips his head down to capture a nipple between his lips, sucking hard as he smooths a thumb over the flat muscle of his pecs. Steve is breathing hard in low quiet breaths, watching him with those cerulean eyes. He switches to the other, digging in his teeth for a hard nip of firm skin, pulling a low grunt of pleasure from him. Not to be outdone, Steve leans in and strokes his hands under James's skintight tee, tugging it up so the marine has to let him go to pull it over his head. Before the shirt even hits the deck they're back at each other's mouths. The rocking of their motions has their hips grinding the matching bulges in their pants together in frustratingly blanketed friction.

"Dios I want you so bad," Vega mutters. Before either of them realizes it, James has his hand inching under the waistband of Steve's trousers.   
Steve briefly recalls a feeling that tells him he ought to keep James out of his pants, but he can't remember why. The thought is forgotten completely when his trousers are tugged open and James's hand dips inside. He shudders as the rough hand closes around him, stroking gently.

"Up," James orders. Steve has little interest in breaking their physical proximity, so he just presses closer, grinding his cock into Vega's palm and swollen lap simultaneously. He takes a nip at Vega's jaw, enjoying the rasp of rough facial hair along his cheek as he ducks his head to drag his tongue along the point where neck meets jaw. He takes a harder bite at the top of James's tattoo, grinding himself roughly forward.

"Ugh, you're killing me here, Esteban!" he grumbles, snaking his hands around Steve's backside, gripping fistfulls of ass to grind their hips together again before pulling him back.

Though he's not a small man, James is a tank, so when he grips Steve by the hips and pushes, Steve is lifted up off him so that he's standing again. In an efficient motion James has his pants loosened down around his ankles, but then he curses under his breath.  
"Oh man, boots." 

He tries to tug the clothing over the boots, but the bloused knee of the fatigues is caught in the yank, causing Steve to wobble dangerously. He stumbles, twists so he lands with a thump back on the couch next to Vega. He snickers under his breath, then bursts into low laughter. James grins at him and reaches over to finish his mission, yanking the laces on the boots till they came free and gathering the now unrestricted trousers. 

Soon he is gazing at a completely naked Cortez, sprawled back on the couch with one foot on the deck, the other cocked up on the couch. One hand is splayed across his abdomen and the other dangles over the edge. He watches James with the happy lazy grin of intoxication on his face, looking across at him with those stunning blue eyes.

It is a sight to behold.

Vega's own boots and trousers are disposed of faster than a marine first in line for the showers after a hard mission. Bare now himself he is free to slide over on the couch. He moves slowly, stalking his way up Steve's body into the forward-leaning-rest-position that is well familiar to anyone military.

"Hey," he says, grinning down at the other man. 

"Hey there _Mister Vega_ ," comes the smirking reply.

With a quiet purr he frames Steve's face with strong arms as he props himself up over him, tips his head down to kiss him. He sinks down until he is hovering just over him, skin finally touching with no barriers between them. Steve's leg on the couch slips up so that it is stroking over the taut muscle of Vega's calf. He strokes his palms up along the flexed stretch of back muscles, down along ribs.   
When Cortez's hand slides down to grab a handful of his ass, James can't help the way his hips drive slowly forward, sliding their erections against one another. He does it again for good measure, eliciting low throaty gasps from both of them. Steve's hand slips up over his hip till he closes his fingers around James's broad cock, pumping it gently. Vega moans and pumps his hips forward into his hand, muscles in his arms flexing as he braces himself over Cortez. 

"Fuck, Esteban, this is…," he breaks off, moans again. He presses hot wet kisses over Steve's face and neck as he fucks his hand, letting out little strangled gasps of pleasure as he rolls his hips. The resulting licks of friction against Steve's own hardened cock, pressed against his abdomen, are torturously insufficient. The tension in his body as he holds himself up from crushing Steve is displayed in acres of taut muscle. As they strain into one another their kisses grow urgent, bodies starting to shine with sweat. 

"Hey Esteban," he says, breaking their kiss and looking down at him. "You know what you should do?"

They're both breathing hard, hands roaming. James dips his head down to nuzzle under Steve's jaw, waiting for a response as he nips hard at the chorded muscle of his neck.

"What's that?" he asks breathily, head rolling to the side to allow freer access as his nips trailed down to his collarbone.

"You should take that cock of yours," he says, turning his earthy green eyes up to grab his gaze, "and fuck me with it," he says, grinning hot and hard over at him.

Steve can only swallow at the sound of that, blue eyes widening.  
"Yeah, you should _definitely_ do that." Vega adds, grinning. As though it were nothing, he levers himself off Cortez to stand. He glances around the room, pondering, then marches bare-assed (proudly managing a mere single wobbling sidestep) over to a lounge chair, gripping the soft synth-leather padding in his large hands.

"So how about it?" he asks over his shoulder as he starts pulling the padding up. It doesn't come easy and he lets out a little grunt as he wedges his foot onto the frame and heaves back, separating the cushions from the frame with a tearing sound. He stumbles as it comes away, but catches himself with a low chuckle, with a look of pride only a drunk person can muster at having only _nearly_ fallen on his ass.

"There, that should do it," he says, turning and tossing the thick pad over to where Cortez is still laying. Steve is just watching him, drinking up all his rippling muscled glory and caramel skin bared in the shadows and lights of the huge window.   
James moves to stand in front of him, hands on hips, cock hanging hard, broad like its bearer. Despite the confusing wash of alcohol through his brain, it's impossible not to be overwhelmed with lust at the sight.

"So?" James asks, grinning happily as he ogles him openly.

Cortez tries to swallow but his mouth is dry. "Ok," he manages, moving to stand.

"Can't resist me, eh Esteban?" James replies, lips twitching into a smirk as he slips his thick arms around Steve's athletic waist. He presses forward for another kiss, nipping at his lip. 

"No, it seems I can't _Mister Vega_ ," 

"Mmm," James rumbles appreciatively, "Damn but I love it when you say that, Esteban."  
Nuzzling his lips under his ear, he glides his hips forward and slides his cock against Steve's as though to prove just how much he loves it. He kisses his way down Steve's neck and chest, dipping his tongue into the curve of his abdomen.  
Then he crouches down, settling onto his knees on the pad, framing Steve's hips with his broad hands. 

"Dios, but you have a beautiful cock, Esteban," he says, " _Muy armado._ "   
Abruptly he slicks his mouth over Steve's erection and it's all Steve can do to refrain from spouting a string of profanity. He bites down on a hissing breath, reaching out a hand to touch the short band of hair running along James's head. He has to adjust his footing because the world is so damned wobbly all of the sudden.

James works his mouth gently until the moisture of his mouth gathers. He lifts his mouth, spreads his saliva with his tongue and fist before he sits back and turns around, raising to his hands and knees. He props one elbow on the nearby couch and turns to look over his shoulder up at Steve. 

Cortez is already kneeling behind him on unsteady legs. He takes a shaky breath as his erection nestles in the crease of James's toned ass. Vega makes a pleased rumble, rocking his ass back against him. He moves his hips as well so that the wetness on his cock spreads as he strokes against him.   
Adding some of his own saliva to his hand Steve reaches down, sliding slickened fingers up under his length to stroke James's opening.  
"Mmm, right there Esteban, you're gonna fuck me right there," James murmurs, mouth even looser than usual thanks to the tequila. The commentary sends a jolt of lust straight to his cock.   
He presses his finger into the young marine, pumping it slowly in and out. The sound James makes sends a shudder through Cortez. James's moan turns wanton and greedy when he slips another finger alongside it, sliding deeper into him. His cock is painfully hard, just waiting there above his stroking fingers.  
" _Chingadera…_ " he mutters glancing back.  
" _Culear_ , Steve, come on just fuck me... please, I'm dying here," James begs, pressing his forehead against the edge of the couch.

More than happy to oblige, Steve withdraws his hand and guides the tip of his throbbing cock down to Vega's entrance, "If you insist, Mister Vega," he adds, voice tight as he pushes forward.

They are both too drunk to take it slowly, despite the tight fit, driving their hips toward each other till Steve is buried to the hilt inside the younger marine. Shuddering breaths are torn from them. They pause for only the merest moment before both rock their hips, moving apart then pushing back together hard. 

"Oh fuck," James moans into the couch, leaning on one fist as he arches his back. Steve's hands wrap around his hips, getting a firm grip for starting up a steady pace. He lets out a tight breath as he strokes deep and smooth into him.

Drunk as they are, it doesn't take long for them to pick up the pace, thrusting and grinding against each other. The way they have to fight to keep their balance, to stay focused on fucking, just makes it that much more exciting, despite the slightly slippery blanketing of their sensations. 

James's sheer size makes it difficult for Steve to get his arms around his hips to stroke his wide cock. Steve growls in frustration, and pulls out of the younger marine with a pop, scooting backwards on the makeshift pad.  
"Turn over," he demands.

James doesn't turn so much as fall over onto his back, but it does the trick well enough. He slides himself back in line, hands grabbing at Cortez's thighs for leverage. Steve takes his knees and pushes them wide, baring James's slick and loosened ass. With his intoxicant-hindered attention span, he is distracted from his intent to continue fucking James at the sight. He can't resist swirling a finger into him, rubbing his thumb over the sensitive skin behind James's cock, stroking his other hand up around his shaft.

"Oh _dios_ , Come on," the younger marine gasps, "Come _on_ Esteban, fuck me," he begs, angling his hips towards Steve's cock and gripping his legs with his feet. Steve replaces his fingers with his cock in a desperate motion, sliding forward hard enough that he loses his tenuous hold on balance and sprawls over the marine till their bodies are plastered together ankle to throat. 

James grins and turns his head to kiss him, thrusting his tongue into his mouth fiercely as though he could fuck Steve with his tongue the way he aches to be fucked himself. Cortez has never been one to miss a signal. Vega's head rolls back on a moan as Steve contracts his abs, slamming into him, grinding Vega's cock between their bodies. 

He repeats the motion, reveling in the sweat-slickened grind of their bodies as they remain pressed together. He puts every ounce of his strength and concentration then into fucking his friend, driving their bodies together with everything he can muster. The sound of their choked moans and gasping breaths fills the dark room. The look on James's face, blown out, wanton with alcohol and pleasure is unbelievably good.

Determinedly, Steve regains his balance a little, bracing a foot on the deck and leaning to one side slightly so his hand can slip down to close over Vega's erection. 

"You know what you should do?" Steve asks, mimicking James's earlier words, though he is gasping between them, wrecked for breath.

James's alcohol and pleasure-wasted gaze lolls back over to meet his.  
" _Que?_ " he manages on a groan.

Well past any of his usual calm and measured speech, Cortez grins luridly down at him, "You should cum for me," he says, returning the dirty talk he'd been so blessed by that night.   
"Cum for me with my cock in your ass," Steve demands as he pumps his fist and hips in tandem, abruptly driving harder and faster into him, the muscles of his thigh taut as he braces against the deck.

This elicits a moan, back arching up at the sudden increase in ferocity. Vega's knuckles are white where they grip the leg of the couch near his head.

"Yeah, you should _definitely_ do that, _Mister Vega_ ," Steve adds on a gasping breath, close to his own climax.

" _Voy… voy a correrse_ ," James cries out as Steve says his name, head rolling to the side in uncontrollable response as his abs clench down hard, legs kicking against Steve's own where they are tangled behind him. He moans loud, jerking as his cock erupts in Steve's hand, hot seed splattering against their bellies, smearing between them as Steve continues driving into him mercilessly. 

Steve groans soon after as he drives himself deep into James's body, muscles shaking at his effort as he presses his face against James's tattooed neck, gasping his release.

They lay twined together for a few long moments, catching their breath before Steve pulls himself together enough to slip back and roll to his back on the deck beside his friend. His lover.

They stare out into the glowing pink and silver lights of the citadel traffic, hands touching but not entwined.

Eventually James turns his head to look at him with those bright hazel-green eyes.

"Hey," he says.

"Hey there Mister Vega," comes the soft, teasing reply.

" _Madre de dios…_ " he mutters wryly, banging his head back gently on the deck, " _really_ shouldn't have told you about that." 

______________

 

"Okay Steve, take us in hot. We'll drop on the roof - those Cerberus bastards aren't even going to know what hit them," Shepard calls forward into the cockpit, stepping back from the viewscreen to grab an overhead handhold, swaying deftly with the motion of the shuttle.   
"You got it, Shepard," Cortez's grinning voice replies.

Her rifle dangles from one loose arm and her legs are spread slightly in a confident stance. She rolls her shoulders in anticipation; she fucking lives for this shit.  
"All right," she says to her teammates with a feral grin, "We're going to blast those fuckers before they can even zip their dicks back up in their suits."

James just grins up at her crude phrasing "Hoo-Rah!" he says. 

EDI is sitting in her corner, head tilted, looking like she is assessing all the possible humorous iterations implied by Shepard's words.

"So, _Mister Vega_ , you ready for this?" Steve calls back, joining in on the pre-game uptalk.

But when no snappy rejoinder is forthcoming Shepard raises a brow, turning to look down at her teammate. She's almost worried. Vega's eyes look far off, like he's remembering something. Something he likes, given the slight twitch of his lips.

"Cat got your tongue?" she asks, leaning towards him.

She can hear Cortez laughing deep and rich at James's lack of response and her question. She looks back and forth from the cockpit back to James, a smile growing on her face. Something is passing between them that she is definitely missing, but the result is still highly entertaining.

At his laugh, James seems to notice he's missed his beat. "This ain't nothing, Cortez," he calls back. 

"Uh-huh. Well you know what you should do _Mister Vega_?" Cortez calls back from the cockpit  
as he brings the shuttle into the planet's atmosphere.   
James is scowling fiercely now. 

"You should kick some Cerberus ass. Yeah, you should _definitely_ do that, _Mister Vega_ ," Steve adds, the grin clearly audible in his voice as he continues the apparently inside joke.

Much to Shepard's amazement, James closes his eyes and bites his lips together, a hot blush spreading across his cheeks.  
She grins broadly when he mutters " _Tú me estás jodiendo_ " under his breath.

"Something wrong Lieutenant?" she asks, not above a little teasing herself.

His eyes snap open and he looks up at her, face turning even more red.  
"No Ma'am," he replies automatically, uncharacteristically subordinate.

 

The sound of Steve's laughter echoes through the shuttle.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I'm really really sorry if any of my makeshift spanish is badly wrong. I only know a bit of italian and no spanish, so I can only guess at the grammatical structure and combine that with what I pull from the dictionary.  
> And yes I realize I pulled slang from various completely disparate spanish-speaking localities (e.g. puerto rico and Spain) - sorry! (Though in my head I like to pretend that future slang will be oddly re-combined from various localities as cultural groups re-form out in space, so it's not that bad.)


End file.
